


Witchy Woman: or Save A Broom - Ride a Witch

by feral_albertan_female



Category: Logan-X-Men, Marvel, Wolverine (Comics), X-Men, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Cats, Dating, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Dates, Hockey, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jötnar, Magic, Mani - Freeform, Monday - Freeform, Romance, Sea Monsters, Witchcraft, X-men - Freeform, spells, the man in the moon - Freeform, weird idea, witchery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feral_albertan_female/pseuds/feral_albertan_female
Summary: Logan hates anything and everything to do with witchcraft - it's weird, it's unpredictable, and it's unstable, but because he's such a nice guy, he agrees to do a favour for Remy that involves a magic book. When he meets up with a comely witch, he finds himself embroiled in the world of sorcery and monsters when all he wanted to do was watch a damn hockey game.Just another day for the ol' Canucklehead, right?





	1. SpellBound

**Author's Note:**

> This is a weird idea. Comments - good or bad, are always welcome.

_It's such an ancient pitch_

_But one I wouldn't switch_

_'cause there's no nicer witch than you_

_-_ "Witchcraft" by Frank Sinatra

 

* * *

 

 

Logan had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his wool-lined leather jacket. It was starting to get cold in New York, the chill sweeping down through the streets from on high, swirling dead leaves and garbage up and down the sidewalks. The fact that night was falling didn’t help any; the indigo colour of the sky and the grey clouds stamped upon it promised snow.

Grumbling to himself, Logan wondered why he was such a fucking nice guy. Not that long ago, he would have balked at doing a favour for a friend—but then again, he was considering more and more people to be ‘a friend’, so maybe it was his own damn fault he was becoming so nice.

Remy LeBeau, sometimes known as Gambit or as one of the FBI’s ten most wanted, was in desperate need of a spell book for some kind of voodoo hoodoo shit that he was involved in that could end the world and _blah blah blah_ needed someone to get the book from a small specialized shop somewhere in the city.

Logan, being the nice goddamn guy he was, had offered to get it. A trip into the city had been long overdue and getting away from hoards of screaming and hormonal teenagers for a while was optimal. He had a safe house—more of an apartment, really—so he packed a few clothes, hopped on his bike and got the fuck out of shit town.

It turned out the shop wasn’t that far of a walk from his temporary place and it was open late, so he figured what the hell. Grab the book, get back to his place, drink a brew, eat some wings, and watch the hockey game—in peace for once.

Logan found himself in front of a nondescript shop with an old-fashioned storefront painted dark green. There was no display in the window—in fact, a blind had been pulled down, obscuring any view of the shop from the street. On the glass, in delicate black on gold handwritten script, was the word _SpellBound_.

Logan pulled his cell from his pocket and double-checked the address against the text Remy sent; it was the right place. He felt another grumble coming on.

Witchy woo woo places like this always burned a shit ton of incense that scalded the insides of his sensitive nose and made his eyes sting, but he girded his loins, took a deep breath, and pulled the door open.

He was pleasantly surprised when he wasn’t assaulted by sandalwood, jasmine, lavender, or some other hippie associated scent that made his senses crazy. Once he stopped and looked around, it seemed the whole place was intent on pleasantly surprising him.

Logan had expected all sorts of whimsical witchery in the vein of crystals, ancient runes, scrying balls, velvet cloaks, tarot cards and things of that nature. Instead, a cosy shop lined with bookshelves that were absolutely stuffed with tomes—some ancient looking, some more modern—along with a few scarred wood tables, and comfortably worn armchairs, greeted him.

Framed vintage posters decorated the walls. Three boasted of the amazing skills of Harry Houdini along with dates and times listing upcoming shows; one was a framed invitation to a 1928 séance led by a famous occultist; a few more proclaimed other, lesser known illusionists and magicians plying their trade at theatres that no longer existed.

The ads were all vintage and Logan whistled softly in appreciation. As he did, a black cat jumped down from one of the bookcases and sat in front of him, seemingly studying Logan with judgemental yellow eyes. The nametag of its collar read _Monday_.

He scented the cat, a bit taken aback by the fact that it didn’t smell like a cat should, all wild and gamey, by the was suddenly distracted by a voice coming from the counter.

Logan stepped around the cat, whose eyes followed him closely, and walked towards the voice. A woman was on the phone, her back to him. She was buxom with a nicely rounded ass that was currently tucked into a pair of worn blue jeans. An olive green cardigan brushed just below the belt loops and pair of black ankle high motorcycle boots clad her feet.

He could see the edge of a book that was clearly open in front of her.

“No, Mr. Dmitri, it clearly says _lemon_ not _demon_. I’m looking directly at the text. It’s written in cursive … I _know_ that can be confusing,” she was saying. “Well, possibly because someone might not be able to get to the grocery and needs it for a nice piece of fish?”

Her reply obviously did not go over well; Logan could hear the upset man yelling. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Anatoly Dmitri,” Her response was cold, yet firm. “You know you shouldn’t be summoning demons anyway; I could turn you into the council ... Yes, that’s what I thought. Yes, you too. No refunds, Mr. Dmitri. Enjoy your lemon!” She hung up the phone and tilted her head back with a sigh, running a hand through her short brown hair. “Fucking wizards are so goddamn temperamental.”

Logan, amused, cleared his throat. Her hand leapt to her chest as she whirled around, startled. She was pretty but not beautiful. Her eyes were green behind black rectangular glasses, her nose was slightly tipped up at the end, and a few freckles marched across the bridge of her nose. Her round cheeks were slightly red from the jolt.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Logan said, trying to keep the gruffness from his voice.

She flapped her hands at her face, breaking into a smile. “I’m sorry,” she said with a hint of laughter. “You probably heard my phone call; I assure you I’m much more professional than that.”

“Except for when dealing with temperamental wizards?” Logan smiled back.

She gave him a wink and a finger gun. “You got me,” she said. “Luckily, you don’t look like a wizard, so what can I do for you?”

He pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and held it out to her. “I’m picking this book up for a friend.”

She took the paper from him, her eyes scanning the writing. “Ah, yes,” she said. “You’re here for Remy?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m Logan.”

Her green eyes looked up from the paper and flicked over him. “He told me he’d be sending you,” she said. “I’m August Moon, proprietor of the place. I’ll need you to follow me. The book’s in an … odd place.”

Logan shrugged and August pressed a shiny bell on the counter, next to the register. A tall, thin man seemed to appear out of nowhere in a puff of smoke. He was dressed in pinstriped trousers, a black vest and a crimson shirt. His dark hair was slicked away from his angular face.

“You rang?” he intoned in an imitation of Lurch from _The Addams Family_.

“I need you to watch the store,” August said. “I have to go to the basement.”

Louis leaned heavily on the counter, studying his black painted nails. “How long?” he asked with a put-upon sigh.

“Lock up in a bit,” she replied. “I need to get a book for Remy.”

Louis straightened suddenly, smoothing his hands down his vest. “Is he here?” he practically squealed, his dark eyes darting around the store. When Louis noticed the store was practically empty, save for Logan, he deflated, his long, lean body seemingly only being held up by the counter. “Enjoy yourself and if you see Addanc, he owes me fifty dollars.”

August lifted a partition and motioned Logan through. He nodded at Louis as he went past but the man ignored him, more intent on smoothing out a wrinkle in his pants.

“Ignore Louis,” August whispered as she led him into a back room. “He’s self-absorbed. Typical cat.”

“I can hear you!” Louis’ voice rang out.

“Good!” she yelled back.

Her arm suddenly snapped out, like a crossing guard stopping a child from running into traffic. She’d actually stopped Logan from stepping on another cat that was black, except for the white stripe down the centre of its back.

It pressed itself against Logan’s leg, tail high, purring loudly. Its large green eyes were looking coquettishly up at him and if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn the cat was hitting on him.

“This is Penelope,” August said, bending down to pick it up. As she lifted the cat into her arms, it winked at him, its little pink tongue peeking out between its teeth. “Named after Penelope Pussycat—Pepé Le Pew’s girl. She’s a huge flirt. Go on; go keep Louis company.”

She released the cat and it twitched its tail haughtily, giving one more look at Logan over its shoulder before trotting off through the curtain. He watched it go, subtly trying to scent the air again.

“They don’t smell like cats,” Logan remarked. In fact, they smelled a bit like brimstone and smoke.

August laughed and Logan found himself liking the sound if it. “Technically, Louis, Penelope and Monday _aren’t_ cats,” she said, stopping at a rickety, old, white washed wooden door. “How can I put this? They’re daemons, a sort-of guardian spirit of a person or a place. They like to present as cats; I have no idea why.”

She grabbed the rusted metal ring that hung on the door and gave it a firm pull. It didn’t budge. She muttered a curse and Logan stifled a chuckle, not used to such a filthy word coming from a woman. August took the ring in both hands and jerked it back, putting her whole body into it, a growl coming from her lips.

Again, it refused to move.

The ring clanked loudly against the wood as she let go and stared at the door, obviously frustrated. Her cheeks were red and her lips pursed.

“Need help?” Logan offered.

August’s green eyes turned towards him and he could swear he saw a flash of gold ring her irises before quickly fading away. “No,” she said. “The keeper’s being a bit of a dick.”

“Ah.” Logan said with a nod as if he understood completely.

She waved her hand nonchalantly. “Don’t worry; I know another way in.”

August stood back from the door, studying it for a moment. She placed her hands on the ring and turned it ninety degrees; the accompanying screech made Logan flinch. She dropped her hands, then curled one into a fist before hitting it dead centre and in each corner before moving away.

The door made a clanking sound, dropped down an inch with a hiss, steam shooting out from every crack. Slowly, it started to swing open a bit at a time and Logan was surprised that it practically made no sound, not even a squeak or squeal.

When it finally wheezed to a stop, it opened into complete darkness. Suddenly, there was a flickering of light, like a blub blinking into wakefulness. A figure appeared, flashing closer and closer and the light wavered.

When the bulb sputtered to life, it revealed a man dressed in jeans, a Rolling Stones t-shirt and a smart looking blazer. He had a mop of brown curls and round John Lennon style glasses. He wasn’t very tall, maybe a few inches taller than Logan’s five foot three inch frame, and his thin lips were parted in a knowing smile as his coal dark eyes landed on August.

“There are better ways to get my attention, Gus,” he said, crossing his arms over his lean muscled chest.

“Stop locking the door.” August said firmly.

“Then go out with me,” the man said, reaching out to caress her arm.

She stepped back, avoiding his touch, and gestured to Logan. “Not in front of the customers.” she said quietly.

The man let his arm fall back to his side and flicked his eyes to Logan. He tilted his head, letting his eyes roam over the shorter man, then moved aside to let them go past.

“Hand on my shoulder please, Logan,” August said. “Don’t let go until I say it’s safe.”

He placed his hand on the woman’s right shoulder, his grip strong. While they walked by the curly-haired man, Logan saw how hungry his dark eyes were as August moved by.

Logan knew that look.

“I’m Addanc,” the man said as Logan passed him, his eyes still on August. “Welsh lake monster, sometimes demon,”

He relayed this information in a voice that Logan assumed was supposed to frighten him, but the smaller man was unimpressed. “Logan,” he replied. “Sometimes X-Man, sometimes Avenger.”

Addanc nodded and Logan tightened his grip on August’s shoulder as they began to descend a crumbling stone staircase. Torches lit the way down, casting dim light on the curving steps. The bad lighting emphasized the fact that the stone walkway was disintegrating; it was pitted at the edges and had almost been walked smooth by the millions of pairs of feet that had walked up and down them for as long as it had existed.

The trio walked in silence and once they reached the twentieth step, August reached up and placed her hand atop Logan’s. Her palm was cool and dry, her fingers resolute as they closed around his. It felt nice.

Addanc made a sound behind them, like a cough, but August ignored him and he fell quiet once again.

They came to the edge of the stairwell, the space before them nothing but blackness, empty and void of any light. Logan wasn’t sure what the hell was going to happen next; where the fuck could they possibly go?

August obviously felt Logan’s uncertainty – she squeezed his hand gently. “Hold your breath on the count of three, okay?” she said.

Logan made an affirmative grunt. He was out of his element and he hadn’t survived this long by not listening to someone who knew what the hell he or she was doing. She counted, and once she hit three, Logan did as she asked.

He almost let it out to yell as August took a step forward into the nothingness, but he was sucked along behind her into the blackness. Logan felt he was flipped upside down, shaken ever so slightly like a James Bond martini, then flipped right side up.

His feet touched solid ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs and he felt August’s fingernails dig into his hand.

Fuck, did he hate magic woo woo shit.

Discombobulated by the sudden light, the sudden feeling of _otherness_ that pressed around him, it was almost if a wall of concrete was compressing Logan. He shook his head to clear it and then focused his eyes on the head in front of him.

August dropped her hand from his. “You can release my shoulder; it’s safe,” she said.

Logan hesitated briefly; he didn’t really want to stop touching her. He liked the feel of her soft flesh under his hand.

“She said you could let her go.” Addanc said haughtily from behind Logan.

He removed his hand from August’s shoulder, not liking the vibe he was getting from the lake monster/demon. It was if the other man felt he had some sort of claim on her; he was obviously jealous of having another man touch August.

In a way, Logan could relate to that feeling but it didn’t mean he liked it when he felt it from someone else.

August turned to face Logan with a smile. “Not much further, I promise.”

“Is there an easier way to get out?” he muttered.

August chuckled as she turned away and began leading them down a dank hallway. “We’ll see,” she replied cryptically.

Addanc remained behind Logan, radiating dislike. It was beginning to make Logan uneasy; he was okay in small spaces, but the other man was starting to feel like a threat and it set his teeth on edge. His claws began to itch and he flexed his fists carefully, not wanting to release them.

As they continued to walk, the place started to smell… _fishier_ was the only way Logan could describe it. It became more dank and damp; walls began weeping small rivulets of water and it became harder to avoid puddles. He grumbled as his boots sloshed through what seemed to be small ponds.

“I apologize if my lair is not to your liking, Logan.” Addanc said, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

Logan ignored the other man, focusing instead on August, who was plodding forward intently. He noticed her feet weren’t wet at all – in fact, she seemed to be walking barely a half an inch above water, her gait making no ripples on the surface whatsoever.

He was about to mention it when it suddenly began to dry out and warm up. Huge stone walls erupted on either side of them and they began passing arched rooms, some with only one being inside, some crammed with people and other creatures.

The trio walked by Doctor Strange in the hallway. He and Logan made eye contact and Strange raised his eyebrows, his eyes flicking to August. The doctor gave a brief nod, which was returned.

“Doctor,” the water monster behind him said.

“Addanc,” Strange replied.

They kept moving, Logan spying some pretty odd things as they walked. Honestly, though, who was he to judge? Hell, he’d _done_ some pretty odd things over the course of his long life, so he— _Holy shit. Is that Tony Stark?_

He stopped, Addanc bumping into him, but Logan barely noticed. It _was_ Tony Stark, standing inside one of these peculiar rooms and he stank of fear. The man was sweating, his dark hair damp, and he kept nervously pushing it out of his face every few seconds. He was practically vibrating.

“Stark?” Logan said incredulously.

Tony turned to him, his dark eyes widening. “Wolverine?”

“What the hell are you doin’ here?”

“I could ask the same of you, Logan,” responded the billionaire, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I didn’t think this was your scene—“

August had noticed he’d halted and came back to see what had grabbed his attention. “Mr. Stark,” she exclaimed. “Back again?”

Tony was suddenly embarrassed and began to fidget. “Uh, yeah. Well, you know –“

“You a regular here?” Logan asked.

Tony didn’t answer as August stepped into the room he was occupying and looked around. “Where’s Kilda?”

The taller man gave her a half-shrug. “She—uh—might be a bit mad at me,” he replied. “Um, may have _cursed_ me just a little.”

August shook her head, a small smile coming over her face. Logan found himself charmed by the action, which made him hesitate. _Charmed? Like I’m some sort of Victorian lady? Been reading too much Austen lately._

“Give me your hand,” August held one of hers out and Tony immediately did what she asked, palm up. She leaned closer and made a noise of concern. “Oh my. This is a bad one.”

Logan didn’t think it was possible, but Stark started to sweat _more_. “Aw geez,” he stuttered. “Is there something—“

“Don’t worry,” August said. “I can take care if this. However, Mr. Stark, I want your word that you’ll stop sleeping with the magic counselors supplied to you.”

“Oh god,” Tony cried. “Anything! Please just get rid of this—thing!”

August gave Stark another smile before she lifted her free hand and began to trace symbols in the air over his palm. They flared silver before fading away and once she was done, she stepped away with a cough. Tony shook the hand August had been holding and quickly snagged the waistband of his jeans. He peeked inside and, happy with what he saw, leaned back with a sigh of relief.

“You’re the best,” he said, moving forward to embrace August. Addanc let out a muted growl and Tony stepped back, dropping his arms. “Well, thanks for the …" He waved his hand around vaguely. "... you know."

“No problem,” she said, pressing her hand against the stone wall. “Just remember our deal.”

“Cross my heart,” Tony said, etching an X over his reactor. “Toodles.”

He stepped through the glowing white portal that August had conjured for him and was gone. She tapped the portal twice and Louis’s face appeared, looking both bored and upset at the same time. “Lou, add an addendum to Tony Stark’s file that the counsellors supplied to him going forward will be male,” August said. She hesitated, then added: “Unattractive males, lots of tentacles maybe.”

Louis released another put-upon sigh and his eyes flicked over her shoulder. “Ugh, is that Addanc with you?” he asked, seemingly appalled.

“Hello to you too,” the lake monster said sarcastically.

“You owe me fifty bucks, you soggy freak!” Louis shouted. “I know where you li -“

August snapped her fingers and the man’s face disappeared suddenly. She stepped out of the room and it vanished behind her as if there hadn’t been anything there in the first place. “I’m sorry, Logan,” she said, brushing away a piece of hair that had fallen across her face. “Mr. Stark can be a … special case.”

Logan snorted. “You’re preachin’ to the choir.”

She smiled at him and he found himself returning it. August started walked again and Logan fell in step close behind her, Addanc bringing up the rear. They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the mutant turning over what he’d witnessed in his mind. Gambit would _love_ to hear about Tony.

Finally, she came to a stop in front of an alcove that was lit by a single torch.

Underneath the light, coated in dust and the webs of a thousand spiders, sat a yellowed and weathered skeleton, a grimy party hat placed at a jaunty angle on his head. A bright purple party blower rested between his cracked and rust-coloured teeth.

“Mervin,” August greeted, crouching down so was face-level with the skeleton. “I need the book.”

The bones rattled, the party hat bouncing with the movement, the party blower tipping precariously.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but it’s not my problem,” she replied gently, placing a hand on Mervin’s shoulder. Her hand seemed to pass through all the grimy webs, not a trace of dirt or spider gunk on them. Logan couldn't help but be impressed. He knew quite a few people who'd love to know that particular trick.

The skeleton clattered again, harder this time, and the party blower fell from its mouth and wedged itself between the third and fourth rib.

“What the hell is going on?” Logan whispered to Addanc. He didn't know much about animated skeletons, but this one seemed a lot more agitated than a pile of bones should be.

The lake monster leaned towards him. “Mervin is Merlin’s lesser known, less magical brother. He’s upset Merl didn’t invite him to the last family reunion.”

“What’s with the get-up?”

“Leftover from New Years, 2013. Never got undressed. Hasn’t been invited to a party since,” Addanc replied. “The guy’s a freakin’ animal when he gets a few in him.”

“Bit of a drinker?” Logan asked.

“If we’re going to be nice about it, yes.”

"Okay, okay," August said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'll talk to your brother about it, but no promises." 

It was then she and the skeleton feel into silence, the woman staring directly into the eye sockets of the dead man. It looked as if they were communicating psychically, which was something Logan  _did_ know a bit about. It relaxed him a little to see he wasn't completely out of his element.

August stood, brushing the knees of her jeans and a small compartment to the right of Mervin popped open, revealing a thin, bright red cloth bound book. She plucked it from the hole and shut the door, tucking the book into the waistband of her pants. She then turned to the men with a brighter than normal smile.

“All right, all done,” she trilled. “Mervin’s agreed to boost us home, so grab hands please.”

They stood in a circle, Addanc grabbing Marvin's hand in one and August's in the other. Jesus knew that Logan had done weirder things than take a skeleton's hand, so he gripped it casually, like it was something he did every damn day. It was surprisingly cold against his skin but August's was still cool and dry as it had been earlier. It felt nice and made him forget about Mervin's bony fingers.

Once all hands were held, the woman bid farewell to the skeleton and it felt like Logan's eyes stopped working. Mervin's metacarpus slipped from his grasp and he grabbed for it, afraid that the loss of contact would mean he'd be trapped in that weird underground forever. He shouldn't have worried.

His eyes flickered back to life like a flashing light bulb and he, August, and Addanc were standing outside the lake monster's door. The skeleton was nowhere in sight. It was a double-take kind of moment and he took it, glancing at his now empty hand. August chuckled as she released Logan's and he could feel the tips of his ears turning red.

Addanc started reaching for the handle, but he suddenly froze, his fingers just about to touch the rusted circle. "Fine," he gritted through clenched teeth. "Let me go." Whatever had held him stopped and his arm dropping down to his side. "Christ, Gus," he griped. "You should warn a guy when you're gonna do that."

She shrugged. "Kind of defeats the purpose."

The lake creature scowled and patted his front pockets before patting his back pockets, from where he pulled out a wallet with Ariel from  _The Little Mermaid_   gracing the front. Logan couldn't help but stare at it, the young red-headed mermaid, flipping her tail as she perched on a rock, about to burst into song. Addanc felt his gaze and his scowl deepened.

"She's hot, okay?" he muttered as he pulled out a fifty and slipped it into August's waiting hand.  

"She's also sixteen," she chided gently.

Addanc scoffed. "We water folk are ageless. Besides, the movie came out in 1989. Ariel would be a tight 49-year-old ocean MILF by now." He reached forward and laid a hand on his door. "What'd you promise Mervin to get him to give you the book?"

August sighed, placing a weary hand on her forehead. “He’s coming to this year’s New Year’s party.”

The lake monster whistled. “Christ,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, it’s been a slice. Call me, Gus.” He gave her a wink and vanished.

"I'm sorry," she said as the pair began trotting down the hallway that led back to the store proper.

"For what?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't have such an ... well, odd experience," August replied, her cheeks pinkening. "I'd hate to think you'd been scared away."

It was Logan's turn to laugh. "Darlin', if you think a little bit o' hoodoo woo-woo's gonna scare me, you don't know much about me." 

Her cheeks and ears turned a deeper shade of pink while she went behind the counter to grab a brown paper bag to slip the book into. "Before you go, there are a few things you need to know."

"Yeah?" He leaned towards her, hoping one of them would be her number.

She slide the book into the bag. "Firstly, keep the book refrigerated until Remy picks it up. Not the freezer - the fridge. That's very important, okay?" Logan nodded, not bothering to ask why. "Secondly, it's tomorrow."

He wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. He tilted his head, confused. "What?"

"When you came in here, it was late evening yesterday. It's now mid-morning. Time passes differently in the magical realm than it does on the human one."

"Shit." Logan looked down at his watch; she was right. It was 10:30 A.M.

"I assumed Remy told you," August's eyes widened as she realised her mistake, "and I realise I shouldn't have. I'm desperately sorry; you didn't miss any big plans?"

"Ain't nothin' serious - just a hockey game I was lookin' forward to."

She fidgeted a moment. "Wouldn't be the Oilers versus the Flames, would it?"

"Yeah."

She was obviously nervous, clearing her throat before she spoke. "I PVRed it. I hope this doesn't sound too forward, but would you be interested in coming to my place to watch it?" 

 

Logan admired a woman who liked hockey. “I’ll bring some beer.”

August's face lit up. She came through the partition, a grin on her face. "Don't eat," she said. "I'll make some wings and nachos. Puck drops at six, so come on by the store about 5:45. Here's my number."

She handed him a slip of paper, waving at him as she locked up behind him. He returned her farewell with a curt nod, but he turned away from her with a smile on his face. A number and a game with a nice-looking lady? He would be there - maybe because he was such a nice fucking guy.

  

* * *

 

August had been right - it was a brand new day. Mid-morning light was peeking through the dark grey clouds pregnant with snow. Logan's walk home was quick and uneventful and he prided himself on not stopping to check out the hockey scores at the local newsstand or by checking his cell. It'd be a damn shame to ruin an upcoming evening with a lovely lady.

The first thing he did was grab a beer from the fridge. The second thing was placing the witchy book on the top shelf where it would be easily spotted. Not like he'd forget a book in the fridge, but whatever. 

Logan sat at the kitchen table and rubbed a hand over his face. He knew he needed to catch up on some sleep, but the events of last night had him wired. He popped the cap from the bottle and took a few healthy gulps. As he lowered it, he chuckled at the thought of Mervin, the skeletal party animal. Remy'd get a kick out of that one, as well as the Tony Stark sighting. He should text the Cajun, let him know the book was ready for pick-up.

He reached into his jacket pocket to grab his cell when his fingers brushed something unfamiliar. Furrowing his brows, he pulled it out and held it up in order to get a good look at it.

It was a bright purple party blower.

 

 


	2. Rainy Days & Mondays (Always Get Me Down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember the saying about shit and a fan? Well, one's about to hit the other and there's not much Logan can do to stop it--all because of a bright purple party blower and one insistent Welsh lake monster.

 

Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you  
Nice to know somebody loves me  
Funny, but it seems that it's the only thing to do  
Run and find the one who loves me

\- _Rainy Days & Mondays_ by The Carpenters

 

* * *

 

August sat at her desk pouring over an old spell book, typing the translation into her laptop when Monday strolled in and leapt up. He circled three times before he curled up on the open book.

“Monday,” she sighed, tapping the edge of the tome.

“Stop working,” the cat replied, blinking his yellow eyes at her. “I know what you are doing; you think by pretending that you are too busy, it will make me forget.”

August leaned backing her chair. “Fine,” she said. “Addanc’s going to submit his name soon.”

The cat licked a paw and swiped it over his ear. “He thinks you owe him,” he said. “Do not let him bully you.”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “I paid my debt to that waterlogged fish years ago,” she said. “If he thinks I owe him anything else, he’s a fool.”

Monday stood and stretched, his tail high in the air. “He _is_ a fool—a fool for you.”

August picked the cat up and got to her feet. He twisted from her grip, gracefully landing on all fours. “I gave Addanc what he wanted. That should have been enough.”

“It never is with men,” Monday said, winking a yellow eye at her.

She swiped at him playfully with her foot and he nimbly leapt out of the way. “You should know, you horny old tomcat!” August laughed.

He came back to her and sat firmly on her foot. “This is a very serious matter, August. Please do not take it lightly.”

She rolled her eyes and picked him up again, pressing a kiss to his furry head. “I _am_ taking it seriously, I promise. I just don’t like it.”

He jumped to the floor and turned his head to look at her. “We do not have to like it, beloved, but if you wish to remain here, you must have a consort. I am not meant for this world anymore, August.”

“You used to be,” she said quietly, her heart aching.

“Yes, well, times change and so doth go magic,” Monday said. “Get some rest. A clear head can do wonders.”

With the flick of his tail, he left the room, leaving August alone and hurt.

“’So doth go magic’. Ugh,” she mimicked Monday’s voice as she made a face.

The cat poked his head around the doorjamb. “Your impression of me has never been amusing, dear one, but it _is_ getting better.”

He trotted away again and she sighed, throwing herself onto her cavernously empty bed.

Sometimes magic sucked.

 

~*~*~

 

Logan felt oddly refreshed as he walked to SpellBound, a two four of Molson in his hand and a purple party blower tucked in his pocket.

The few hours of shut-eye he managed to grab had been deep and dreamless, the kind he liked. Maybe putting some distance between him and the school had been a better idea than he’d originally thought. If he was feeling this good after only one night, he wondered what he’d be like after a few weeks.

It had snowed while Logan had been asleep, cloaking the world in white. He always enjoyed the first snowfall of the season; it was always beautiful to see everything covered in something pristine and wondrous and it also meant that Mother Nature had made up her mind and decided to move forward with the seasons. No more of that ambiguous ‘is it autumn or winter’ bullshit.

The sidewalk outside of the shop was already shovelled and Logan couldn’t help wondering who had done it. He couldn’t picture fussy Louis or cocky Addanc lowering themselves to do such a menial, sweat inducing task. He pictured August wrapped cosily in a scarf and parka, colourful mitts on her hands as she took on the flakes that piled up in front of the door.

He found himself getting oddly aroused. Maybe it was because he was Canadian, but an attractive woman in soft, warm winter gear always got him a little hot under the collar. He liked to spend some time wondering what those snug, heavy layers were hiding. Call it a crazy fantasy or a fetish—he didn’t care.

The bell to the shop dinged as Logan pushed his way in. Penelope was there suddenly, twining around his ankles, her purr loud and unrelenting.

“Heya, cat,” he said gruffly. She trilled a welcome, dancing around him as he made his way to the counter.

He didn’t have much experience with animals as pets; Logan was a predator and dogs and cats recognised him as such. They would often go out of their way to hide from him.

Penelope showed no fear as she leapt up onto the counter and began rubbing herself insistently against his chest. It was feasible she wasn’t afraid because she was really a demon, but Logan wasn’t one to make assumptions … most of the time. He would still swear that Penelope was flirting with him and to be honest, he didn’t know how he felt about that.

“Wow, Pen must _really_ like you,” August was smiling as she came out from the backroom. “She’s not normally into men with dark hair; blondes are more her poison.”

Penelope sat and batted her eyelashes at him, her tail curling around his wrist. For some strange reason, Victor Creed popped into his mind.

“Heh,” he chuckled. “Then I’ve got someone she could meet; he’d be right up her alley. And personally, I’m partial to redheads myself.”

August raised her eyebrows. “Hear that, Pen? Logan’s got a man in mind for you.”

The cat turned and jumped down behind the counter. There was a puff of smoke and a stunningly gorgeous woman appeared. She was tall and statuesque, sporting black hair with a white stripe down the centre. Her lips were plump, painted a fire engine red that kept Logan’s attention on her face that was blessed with high, knife sharp cheekbones and a perfect nose.

She leaned over, exposing an impressive amount of cleavage. “As long as he’s half as gorgeous as you, handsome,” she purred, her red painted fingernails scratching gently over the back of his hand, “I’d be _more_ than interested.”

“Okay, tone it down, Pen,” August said. “I’ll be at home if you need me, but Louis is asleep in the back in case it gets busy.”

Penelope smiled and winked at Logan. “I don’t think it’s _you_ I’ll be needing, Gus.”

A loud whistle pierced his concentration and he whipped his head away from the cat/woman towards the sound. August was smiling, lowering two fingers from her mouth. She jerked her heads towards the door.

“C’mon, handsome,” she teased. “We got a game to watch, huh?”

 

*~*~*

 

The coffee table was a mess of empty beer cans, sauce-stained napkins, chicken bones bare of meat, and nacho detritus, but neither Logan or August seemed to care as the hockey game went on.

“Are you crazy?” Logan demanded, gesturing a hand to the TV screen. “McDavid was totally in the crease!”

“No way!” August had her arms crossed over her chest and was shaking her head intensely. “”They’re gonna look at it and see it was legit.”

“The refs are blind,” he huffed. “McDavid was in the crease and you’re gonna have to deal with it, darlin’.”

“You’re just being pissy because the Flames are behind by two.”

The whistle blew and the players relaxed, skating around aimlessly as the referees consulted with each other. The pair then skated to the booth, bending down to talk with the man there. The announcer pattered on until he knew what was going on: the referees were going to review the goal to see if it counted.

“I am _not_ being pissy,” Logan harrumphed.

August got up and joined him in front of the TV. She raised her eyebrow and turned her concentration to the screen. Logan was enjoying himself. He hadn’t been sure how this whole thing was going to go and it seemed a bit intimate that he was in her home, eating her food and watching her TV.

He’d been surprised when they’d left SpellBound only to walk to the next building—an old brownstone attached to the store. It was cosy, decorated with the same overstuffed furniture that was spotted around the shop. The colours of the interior were warm, soft colours like butter yellows and soft greens and blues. It was comfortable and Logan found himself relaxing quite easily, especially in August’s presence. She seemed like someone he’d known for a few years and conversation flowed without any awkward pauses.

Monday the cat was around, occasionally strolling into the room to check out the action or to snag a chicken wing from August. He was a fairly laid back cat (daemon?), but it unnerved Logan the way Monday would stare at him, like he was judging his soul and character. It almost felt like Dad popping in occasionally to check in on his daughter’s date.

The slow motion replay of the goal was brought up and both paid rapt attention as the announcer talked about what was happening. In the end, McDavid wasn’t in the crease—but just barely—and the goal was allowed.

August pumped her arm and shouted in delight while Logan grumpily threw himself on the couch. “Told you those refs were blind,” he muttered.

“Are you serious?” She whirled on him, flinging an arm out towards the screen. “You _saw_ the replay; it wasn’t interference. _You’re_ the blind one,” Monday had run into the room in concern when he’d heard August yell gleefully and she scooped him into her arms. “How about that, kitty cat? Oilers are ahead by two.”

She carried him back to the couch and Monday curled happily in her lap once she’d settled, purring in satisfaction as August stroked his black fur. They watched the last few minutes of the second period, the intermission starting with the players skating off of the ice and walking towards the locker rooms.

August could have easily fast-forwarded through the 15-minute break, but they’d decided earlier to watch the interviews and commentary as well as to use the time for snacks and bathroom breaks.

Monday rolled onto his side and opened his yellow eyes, which immediately fixed on Logan. “Does Monday change forms too?”

August ran her hand along the cat’s side. “Sometimes,” she answered. “It’s different for him, though.”

“Is it because he’s your personal daemon instead of the store’s?”

She tilted a smile in his direction. “You paid attention.”

“I always pay attention when a pretty woman speaks.” Logan said.

He enjoyed how prettily August blushed. Monday got up from her lap and sat between the two, his powerful gaze almost burning a hole through Logan.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” August said, the pink still in her cheeks. “Monday’s my—“

The doorbell rang, interrupting her. She excused herself to get the door, leaving Logan and the cat to contemplate each other warily. He grabbed a nacho and chewed on it before deciding to speak.

“Hope I’m not offendin’ you with my questions. Just curious is all,” Logan said. He sighed and leaned back. “And I’m talkin’ to a cat.”

Monday tilted his head, then licked a paw and swiped it over an ear. “I do not find your questions offensive,” the cat said. “In fact, I encourage them. August seems to like you and I am beginning to see why.”

Logan’s mouth curled into a smile. “She likes me, huh?” Then he did a double take.“Did you just talk?”

“Yes,” answered Monday. “Unlike Louis and Penelope, I can speak in this form.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, He has nothing to do with it,” responded the cat. “He did not have those kinds of powers. And I said she _seems_ to like you; that is very different from _actually_ liking you.”

Raised voices came from the foyer, turning Logan’s attention away from the talking feline.

“I _will_ find someone to stand for me, August,” Addanc’s voice was loud and belligerent. “You should just accept me now and be done with it.”

“Now isn’t the time for this discussion,” August was trying to be polite but it seemed strained. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“It’s _never_ a good time for you,” snorted the Welsh lake monster. “I want to talk about it now.”

Logan went to the entrance, Monday hot on his heels. Addanc was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a thick, grey Irish knit sweater. He had one hand wrapped tightly around August’s left wrist, his face red with anger, his coal black eyes filled with fury.

“Are you okay, August?” Logan asked casually, placing a hand on her shoulder as he came to a stop. Addanc glared at him angrily, his lips pulling back slightly over his teeth. He fought not to return the expression, the beast furious having been challenged.

“I’m fine, thank you Logan,” she said, her gaze on Addanc fierce. “Let go of my hand now.”

Addanc sneered. “I know what you’re doing,” he said callously. “You’re trying to get this … animal to fall for you so he can take my rightful place. Is that how desperate you are to not be with me?”

Logan felt August stiffen under his grip.

“I’m not doing anything to anyone,” she practically growled. Monday pressed up against her, arched his back, and hissed.

“Don’t talk back to me, old man!” Addanc snarled.

His foot connected soundly with the cat, Monday skittering backwards with a loud, pained yowl. August cried out and swung an arm at him but Addanc saw it coming and stepped out of the way. She stumbled and went down hard on one knee.

Logan locked eyes with the lake monster, finally bearing his teeth. His first punch was to Addanc’s stomach, driving the breath out of the man who then clutched his midsection and doubled over with a groan. The next hit was between the shoulder blades, sending Addanc to the ground. He placed his foot on the man’s back.

“Is Monday okay?” Logan asked, his eyes on the lake monster.

August came back, the cat in her arms. “He’s unhurt.”

Logan removed his foot and crouched down, letting his claws slide out slowly. “I don’t like it when people threaten my friends,” he growled. “I suggest you go back home and leave August alone.”

“You don’t know what she is,” Addanc gasped, still fighting for breath. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, little man! This is serious shit and you’re going to pay for it in blood!” August was suddenly next to them, reaching down the grasp Addanc’s arm. “You can send me back, but I will have you, August!”

A white light exploded around the lake monster’s silhouette, momentarily blinding Logan. There was an enraged cry and when his vision cleared, Addanc was gone, the door still open to the cold.

With a shudder, August pushed it shut and leaned with her back against it. “I’m sorry, Logan,” she said, her voice wavering, her face pale. “He isn’t supposed to be able to leave his lair unless summoned.”

“Or if someone opened his door,” Monday added, his tail flicking irately.

August’s eye hardened as her eyes flicked towards the shop, as if she knew who had done it but before she could speak, she sank to the floor silently. Her hands began to glow silver and she toppled to the side, unconscious.

“She has been using to much magic,” Monday answered. “I have warned her that until she finds a—“

Logan picked her easily off of the floor, cradling her in his arms. Her head lolled on her neck, her eyelids fluttering wildly. “What do I do?” he asked the cat.

“I will show you upstairs to her room,” Monday replied. “I need to summon a doctor; she’s going into magical shock.”

“Magical shock? What the fuck is that?”

As if answer to Logan’s question, August’s arms flared, silver shards of light shooting from the tips of her fingers to her elbows. It startled him enough that he almost dropped her.

“Oh, _that_.” Logan muttered.

“Quickly, please,” the cat urged.

He was placing August in bed when Monday jumped up beside her. “Do you have a cell phone?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Logan answered.

“Excellent,” Monday said. “I will need you to dial. My paws do not seem to work on these modern phones. It is extremely frustrating.”

Logan wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but in all honesty, he been in crazier situations and this one needed attention his claws couldn’t supply. Without a word, he raced back downstairs, and brought the phone back up to Monday.

As Logan looked at the pale, unconscious woman who was still emitting silver light and the cat who was using speakerphone to get in contact with a supernatural doctor, he couldn’t help but think to himself how much he hated woo woo magic shit.

He also couldn’t help what the fuck Addanc was talking about when he said Logan didn’t know what August was. This whole thing was getting weirder by the minute and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Scratch that; Logan _knew_ he didn’t like it.

He wanted answers.

 

 

*~*~*

 

Merlin wasn’t exactly what Logan was expecting and apparently, the sentiment was returned.

“I thought you’d be taller,” the wizard said as he checked August’s pulse.

“Thought you’d be deader,” Logan retorted, which drew a chuckle from both Monday and Merlin.

The ancient wizard didn’t look ancient at all; in fact, he looked like a healthy, jovial man in his 50s with head of white hair and white goatee. He was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, but it was obvious he was keeping up with modern styles.

“Yes,” Merlin said. “I can see why you would think that,” He cracked open one of August’s eyes and shone a bright light that came from the end of his pointer finger. “This exam is about to get a bit more intimate.”

“Say no more.”

Logan hoisted himself out of the chair and headed downstairs. He surveyed the mess and started cleaning; being a nice fucking guy also included picking up after oneself, he thought, especially if the host is incapacitated.

He knew he was probably in the way, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving before he knew how August was doing. He felt he owed that to her at least.

After Logan had the dishwasher running, the garbage taken out, and the table wiped down, he sat back on the couch and pulled out his cell. A blinking light told him he had a few texts.

One was from Remy, asking when he could pick up the book. He was in the city for a bit and was looking for a place to crash. Gambit also asked how Logan liked August, if they’d gotten along.

Weird, Logan thought to himself. He was the kind of guy who kept his shit to himself. He didn’t feel the need to advertise his relationships or lack thereof, though it _had_ been a while since he’d had a good woman. There had been a few one night stands to keep the edge off, but nothing worthwhile.

Besides, Remy should clean his own house before playing matchmaker. The man’s relationship with Rogue was complicated at best and Logan wasn’t even sure if they were still an item. The couple had been off and on so many times, Logan couldn’t keep track anymore.

Not only that, but the Cajun never seemed to have a problem when it came to the opposite sex. He had a reputation as a Don Juan, love ‘em and leave ‘em type. There had been a few women he’d cared about, but like Logan, nothing that had stuck.

He fired back a quick text telling Remy where his place was, where the book was located, and the door code. He intentionally left out anything about August—was none of Gumbo’s damn business anyway.

The next was from Victor Creed, who Logan had _not_ given this number to. It was another weird one, asking him if he wanted to grab a beer sometime. They weren’t the best of friends, but they did take the time to sit silently at a bar every few months to consider each other over a few brews.

What the hell, Logan thought as he typed his reply, adding that he’d met a woman that was, without a doubt, Victor’s type.

Penelope seemed like the kind of woman—or daemon, he supposed—that could handle herself around someone like Victor. If he pissed her off, she could always curse his dick or send it into another dimension or something like that.

Logan was chuckling at the idea when he noticed Monday coming down the stairs.

“August is awake,” the cat said with the flick of his tail. “She has asked for you.”

 

 

~*~*~

 

The first thing August saw was Merlin’s concerned face hovering over hers. It caused her to let out a surprised cry, which in turn startled the wizard and Monday.

“Well,” said Merlin, clutching at his chest. “There’s nothing wrong with her vocal chords.”

She tried to sit up, but the man placed gentle hands on her shoulders, pushing her back down. August took the hint and settled back against her pillows.

“What happened?” she asked. “I remember Addanc—“ She shivered at the memory of the man trying to force his way into her house.

“Magical shock,” Merlin said softly. “Your magic is depleted right now, August. You know you can’t tap into more until you have a consort to tie you to this realm.”

She sighed, her gaze flicking to Monday, who was perched like a concerned statue on her other pillow. “I don’t want to leave him, Merlin,” she whispered, reaching out a hand to stroke her beloved. He purred and arched under her touch.

“It’s different now,” Merlin responded. “Everything is changing.”

August turned her head to glare at the wizard. “Stop,” she said, an edge to her voice. “I’ve heard the speech a million times. ‘So doth go magic’.”

Monday whipped his tail against her arm and leapt off of the bed with a small growl. “She is not taking this seriously!” he snapped, his yellow eyes angry. “I do not like it any more than you, August, but it is the way it must be. I could not live with myself if you died.”

This was an old argument between them: Monday and August were from two different worlds, neither one welcoming to the other. Earth was a good place for them both to settle, and they did. The magic was strong enough to support them both, but with more and more people moving away from old traditions and gods, it became increasingly difficult for Monday to remain; he needed to spend more time in his own realm in order to recharge and that meant increasing amounts of time away from August.

She was similar to humans and was able to access her own magic, though she drew a majority of her power from Monday and the energy he received from those who worshipped at his altar. Now that force was fading and August was not welcome in her own realm, so she needed to remain on earth.

But if she were unable to access magic, she would die, unless she found someone who could connect her to the planet, someone from whom she could draw power.

Monday pressed his head to her cheek. “I would rather share you with another than lose you, dear one.”

August’s demeanour softened. “I swear I _am_ taking this seriously, Monday,” she said, rubbing a fingertip down his nose. “Is Logan still here?”

“Ah, yes,” the cat said. “The warrior. I shall fetch him.”

He leapt off of the bed and trotted out the door, his tail high. Merlin sighed and looked back towards August.

“He loves you, you know,” the wizard said.

“I know, Merlin,” she replied. “I promise you I’m doing my best, but Addanc has been successful in scaring away all the other candidates.”

Merlin snorted. “He won’t find anyone willing to stand for him.”

August wormed her way into a sitting position, grimacing as her mind drifted back to the lake monster’s threat. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

Monday was at the door with Logan right behind him. He had his jacket in his hand and smiled when he saw August leaning against her pillows. She couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Hey,” he said gruffly. “Nice to see you conscious.”

“Sorry about the game,” she said.

“Eh,” Logan shrugged his shoulders and crossed to sit in the armchair across from her bed. “I fast forwarded to the end; Oilers won in a shoot out.”

“Yes!” August clapped her hands and bounced excitedly. “I knew they’d take the Flames!”

Logan leaned back in the chair with a huff. “Huh. Well, I wouldn’t get too worked up if I was you. They had a two-goal lead and blew it in the first five of the third period; barely had time to get back on track. You know they ain’t gonna make the playoffs.”

August bent towards him, pointing an angry finger. “You take that back.”

“No way,” he said. “Shoot out’s nothing but luck anyway.”

She liked the way Logan’s dark blue eyes sparkled back at her, amused. A grin stretched across her face and she opened her mouth to make a witty retort, but Merlin stood.

“I hate to get in-between this _fascinating_ argument,” he said, “but I have to get going.”

“Yeah, I should move on too,” Logan said.

Before he could stand, August reached out and placed a hand on his bare arm. There as a brief spark of electricity, like a static shock. Monday made a strange _yip_ sound.

“Thank you for helping with Addanc,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Logan replied. “I hope we can get together again. Watch another game.”

August’s smile widened. “I’d like that.”

She gave his arm a quick squeeze before he got to his feet. It felt strong under her grip, warm. As Logan pulled on his jacket, a bright purple party blower fell to the floor. Everyone in the room froze.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Merlin demanded, bending down to snatch it up.

Logan shrugged. “Must’ve been when we were visiting that skeleton guy to get the book. Don't know how it got in my pocket. Could you get it back to him?”

Merlin lowered the blower, his expression one of shock. “It’s Mervin’s all right.”

August’s heart dropped into her stomach as she looked at the party favour, her hand fisting her bed sheets. This changed everything, this meant that …

She didn’t want to think about that now—she wanted Monday to hold her, to tell her everything was going to be all right. Darkness loomed behind her eyes.

Logan was confused. “What the hell is going on?”

Monday sat down in front of him, his yellow eyes boring up into the man’s face. August felt suddenly cold, as if a window had been opened and the winter chill had blown over her skin, down into her bones.

“Monday—“

“How do you feel about magic, Logan?” Monday asked.

The darkness devoured her, eating away her consciousness, driving her deep down into nothingness.

 


	3. Because You're Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan doesn't know handfasting from handball, but when it happens to him, he needs to learn...and fast.

 I put a spell on you

because you’re mine

Stop the things you do

Watch out, I ain’t lying

I love you, I love you

I love you anyhow

I don’t care if you don’t want me

I’m yours right now

I put a spell on you

Because you’re mine

Mine

Mine

 

\- _I Put a Spell on You_ by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You idiot!” Addanc yelled as he kicked at the dirt in front of Mervin. “You were supposed to put the favour in _my_ pocket, not that … hairy little weasel’s!”

Flecks of decades old dust and grime spotted the skeleton from the air, making him clatter indignantly.

“We _do not_ all look alike, you sad sack of osseous matter! Use your bloody eyes!” Addanc snarled.

Mervin clacked defensively, his frame straightening slightly, and the other man turned away, thrusting a hand through his brown curls.

“I know you don’t have literal eyes, you useless twat; that’s not the damn point,” the lake monster hissed, pounding his fist against the brick. “The point was to bind August to me. Instead she’s bound to that disgusting ape!”

Addanc turned away from Mervin and began to pace, his hands in his hair, clenching the strands tightly. The skeleton had royally fucked up beyond belief. It wasn’t that hard to slip a bright purple party blower into a pocket, was it? Damn the fact that he had to rely on Mervin, the pisser of the Ambrosius brothers, but whom else could he have asked?

Addanc was practically _persona non grata_ in the magic realm. If it wasn’t for the thin shred of sympathy he held onto for the unspeakable heinous act committed against him in the past, he would’ve been cast out eons ago. As it was, he was pretty much confined to his own lair, not allowed to wander the supernatural dimension freely. In order to visit, he needed a minder, like he was a bloody toddler who couldn’t be trusted to keep his hands to himself.

Any iota of pity and compassion Addanc had working in his favour would surely evaporate the second it got out that he had tried to bind August. He could try to spin it to his benefit, claim that Mervin did it without provocation; the perpetually soused skeleton wasn’t much higher on the good list than he was. It was a plan that could easily float, but Mervin _did_ have the ear of Merlin and the wizard had the ear of Monday and well … that just wouldn’t do.

Anyone he knew who could break the binding spell would rather turn themselves into toads than help Addanc, but there had to be _someone_ who he hadn’t pissed off or pissed on or—

Mervin started up his infernal rattling, halting Addanc’s pacing. “Shut up, you contemptible bag of cartilage! There’s nothing you can say that would—wait, repeat that,”

The skeleton clattered again, slower this time, and Addanc couldn’t help the wicked smile that spread across his face.

“Mervin, that’s probably the smartest thing your futile femurs have ever rattled,” he said breathlessly. “I could kiss you!”

The skeleton tilted left ever so lightly.

“No, you fool; not really.”

Addanc ignored the disappointed look on Mervin’s skull as he stalked away. That was another can of worms he didn’t have time to reopen.

The undead were just so damned needy.

 

~*~*~

 

“What?” Logan’s confusion was palpable. The fight or flight urge was pulsing inside of his veins, his claws itching to pop. “What the hell do you mean ‘how do I feel about magic’?”

The cat twitched his tail, irritated. “It is a simple question: good or bad?”

Logan glanced from Monday to August to Merlin. “To be blunt, I hate magic and all its weird, wacky woo-woo shit.”

“Excellent,” Monday replied. He walked back towards the bed and leapt gracefully onto it, wrapping his tail around August’s wrist. “Come here, please,”

Slowly, he approached, still unsure what was happening. Merlin looked shell-shocked, his gaze fixed on the purple party favour, August was unconscious again, and the cat was getting awfully fucking bossy—for a cat.

Once Logan was close enough, Monday touched a paw to his wrist. “I know you are apprehensive but I promise answers will be forthcoming once we are finished here,” the cat said. “Time is of the essence right now and if you wish to help August, you must do as I ask.”

“A glass of cold water to the face usually wakes ‘em right up,” Logan muttered.

Monday spared a glance at August and he saw nothing but love and pain in the feline’s gaze. “I have never been one to beg, Logan,” said Monday softly. “I have never seen the point in imploring for something I could easily get on my own, but this is not something I can do by myself; love is much more complicated than a single being or the most powerful of magic.

“I am begging for August, for her life. Please help me save her and I will be in your debt for as long as I draw energy.”

The sincerity and the heaviness in Monday’s words made Logan’s chest clench. He understood the cat’s plight, the willingness to do anything to save someone so loved, so cherished. Images of Mariko and Jean flashed in his head, their memories bringing the familiar ache to his heart.

Years of reflection on their losses always brought the same result: if there had been someway— _anyway_ —to save Mariko and Jean, even if it meant begging a stranger for help, he would have done it.

He knew that love. He knew that loss. He knew that pain. He would do anything to stop anyone from falling into that void.

Logan took a deep breath and looked in Monday’s wide yellow eyes. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Monday’s relief was tangible. “Place your hand on hers,” the cat said.

“That’s it?” Logan said. “Seems pretty ea—“

The second their flesh met, it was as if he was lifted above the Earth, above the troposphere, above the stratosphere, above the mesosphere, above the thermosphere, and above the exosphere to beyond where even the stars existed.

Heat licked at his skin but didn’t burn, water doused him but didn’t make him wet, air pressed against him but didn’t crush him, filling his lungs to capacity, and dirt buried him deep, but didn’t suffocate him.

Logan’s hand broke through the crust of earth first and he felt something grip him. He pushed his body as the other pulled with all its might until he was free, crawling from the soil until he was on his hands and knees, breathing out the oxygen that had burned in his chest. It hadn’t crossed his mind once to use his claws.

His face and eyes were coated in dirt and there were suddenly fingers touching him, brushing the grime from his vision. He grabbed at them, catching the digits in his grip, and when he opened his eyes, he saw who was trying to help.

“Logan,” August said quickly, her voice low, “I’m sorry. Please know I didn’t want this. I wasn’t trying to force you—“

“It’s okay,” he said, wiping spittle and muck from his mouth. He tried to get to his feet but stumbled, a bit dizzy from his magical mystery tour of the universe. She caught him under the elbow and let him lean against her. It felt nice to be close to her.

August was wearing a white, knee length, off the shoulder shift that revealed the delicious peachy creaminess of her skin. The sleeves were long, flowing down to her fingertips, and a lengthy black leather strap was tied around her waist. There were no shoes on her feet and a simple silver circlet around her head.

“Where am I?” Logan asked, August’s arm still firm and supportive around his waist.

She looked around and huffed out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “It’s a little something Monday whipped up,” she said. “He likes to be dramatic.”

A warm chuckle came from behind them. “As I recall, dear one, my dramatics is one of the things you love about me,” said a deep, rich baritone.

August and Logan turned.

The man was dressed in knee high buckskin boots with matching breeches and donned a white wolf fur vest; he wore nothing under the vest, exposing his muscular chest and arms. Silver white hair fell in a braid to his waist and multiple leather necklaces decorated with various sigils graced his throat. Logan caught his gaze and his yellow eyes flickered to a bright, electric blue.

“Monday?” His voice held so much uncertainty, the taller man dissolved into genuine laughter, clutching his stomach as he double over.

“Yes,” Monday replied, once he had sobered up, wiping tears of amusement from his eyes. “I often forget that my true form is quite a bit different from my feline one. August is the only one who really sees me in this body anymore,” He smiled and reached out to her. She smiled and stepped away from Logan, her small hand engulfed by his large one.

They were an odd pairing; Monday was so tall and strapping and August was so diminutive and buxom, but when he looked down into her eyes and touched her cheek gently, there was no mistaking the love that crackled between them.

Monday pressed a brief kiss to August’s lips and turned towards Logan.

“Logan, I cannot express my sincere gratitude for what you are about to do,” the man said earnestly, emotion high in his voice. “In saving August, you are also saving my life, for I do not know what I would do without her,”

Monday motioned Logan closer and he went, his eyes never leaving the tall, powerful man in front of him. Monday took Logan’s hand, placed August’s in it, and clasped them tightly together with both of his own. He then tilted his head up towards the endless, star-filled sky.

“May these hands be blessed this day,” Monday intoned, his deep voice booming out over eternity. “May they always hold each other. May they have the strength to hang on during the storms of stress and the dark of disillusionment. May they remain tender and gentle as they nurture each other. May they build a relationship founded in love, and rich in caring. May these hands be healer, protector, shelter, and guide for each other. This union has been blessed and witnessed by the elements of Earth, Air, Water, and Fire,”

He squeezed their hands gently, a small smile on his face. “The Moon shines his light upon this union and I shall continue to let these souls shine as I shine; this I vow.”

Monday released their still clasped hands, letting out a glow of silver light that streaked up and away, past the stars, past the planets, past every living creature that had ever drawn breath.

Logan felt warmth pool in his stomach and slowly, evenly, it began to spread, surging and moving towards August. It flowed from his hand to hers, like a smooth pour of honey. Once that was finished, an intense, voltaic sensation spilled from August’s hand into his, the sweet buzz working its way through his body until it suddenly ceased, leaving an empty silence within him. Then, gradually, the sound of his heartbeat began to fill his ears again, the steady _lubdub_ of its rhythm an abrupt comfort.

A wonderful pulling sensation turned his gaze towards August, who was watching him curiously, and was as if a giant breath was released and all of the tension left his body, leaving Logan relaxed for the first time in a long time.

Monday clapped his hands and stepped back. “The union is complete,” he said. “August, you now have a consort.”

Logan blinked, confused. “Wait,” he said. “Did we just get married?”

 

~*~*~

  

Addanc leaned back, confident in the plan he had delivered.

The silence that followed—that soon stretched into minutes—started to make him sweat, unpleasantly so. He always smelled fishy when he got sweaty.

Perhaps he _had_ been foolish and desperate to go this route—stupid Mervin, that useless pile of bones. It was his fault Addanc was in this mess in the first place. Then again, if he himself hadn’t torched all of his magical bridges along the way, he wouldn’t have had to rely on Mervin, and then when Mervin predictably screwed up, he wouldn’t have had to turn to—

“This is a very imprudent boon you have disturbed me with,” Loki Laufeyson said, his long fingers steepled under his sharp chin. “The romantic endeavours of mortals bores me and I find the amorous desperation of water monsters even less interesting,”

The tall, lanky Asgardian got to his feet, stretching out to his full six foot, four inch height. His impossibly green eyes flicked about Addanc’s lair, the distaste etched on his face.

“Though I must thank you for a pleasant outing. Your place is … impressively damp,” he said with an air of finality. Loki brushed a droplet of water from the fabric of his grey pea coat and looked about for the exit. “Please forgive my abrupt departure, but—actually, I don’t care.”

Addanc could feel his fishy little heart sink like an anchor in the ocean of his chest. Loki had been his last hope, a desperate shot in the unpredictable dark and it had been a complete miss. He stood, defeated, watching as the god looked around none to desperately for a way out.

“Do you not have doors in this place?” Loki demanded. “How do you get out of here?”

“Magic,” said Addanc dully. “You have magic here, don’t you?”

“Well, yes,” Loki huffed, “but it is muted on this godless planet. You brought me here, fish man, so get me out!”

The Asgardian’s words lit a small spark of hope in the Welsh lake monster’s waterlogged chest.

“Your power is muted here?” Addanc scoffed. “Imagine having limitations on your magics. How inane,”

Loki paused and turned his gaze towards him. “It is no different than your precious August,” the god jeered. “She needs ties to this world for her powers to work. I do not; they are only not as strong here, that is all.”

Addanc tried to still the hammering of his heart as he spoke. “But what if your powers weren’t dampened?” he said carefully. “What if August’s connection to this world gave you the ability to use your magic fully and without complication?”

The Asgardian’s body tensed slightly and he turned towards Addanc. “What do you mean, fish man?”

Addanc unclenched his jaw. “First of all, I’m a lake monster, _not_ a fish man,” he explained with a forced smile. “Second of all, what I’m saying is that if you help me become August’s consort, she will be fully powered with my ties to Earth. I will grant you access to her energies, which will be easy to do since both you and she are biological jötnar,”

Loki took in a sharp breath, his eyes going distant. “I forgot that she was jötunn,” he whispered gleefully.

“Whenever you are on Earth,” Addanc continued, not bothering to keep the pride from his voice, “you will be able to tap her magic and use it to boost yours to full power,”

The god’s gaze was suddenly on him, burning in its intensity.

Addanc’s smile was cruel. “You know she will be slaughtered if she sets foot in either Asgard or Jötunheim,” he said as Loki nodded. “If you remove her from Earth, she’ll die. She will still be dependant on Máni and needs to remain where he is close enough to return to her on occasion.”

Another moment of silence fell and for a few seconds, Addanc thought he’d overstepped his bounds with the god, but instead of smiting, Loki began laughing.

“I like this plan,” he said, summoning his staff. “I will assist you in its completion,”

The Asgardian looked around again as Addanc kept his celebration internal, his attention focused. “Now, how in the seven hells do we get out of here?”

 

~*~*~

 

Logan was pacing back and forth in August’s living room, clenching and unclenching his hands. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or not because he wasn’t sure if he’d been tricked or not.

He was turning into such a nice fucking guy, agreeing to help a few people in distress was second nature, but when he consented, he thought it meant going on a mystical journey across several planes of existence to rescue August’s soul, not to join to her in holy matrimony.

Well, not _holy_ matrimony—or maybe not even _matrimony_? Hell, Logan didn’t even know what the fuck had just happened, except for now he was August’s consort. He shoved his hands through his air, agitated. Monday said explanations would be forthcoming, but now the cat seemed to have pleaded the fifth while he consulted with Merlin upstairs.

“Logan, please sit down. You’re making me nervous.” August’s voice was gentle and soothing and it slid along his skin like silk, light and airy.

Woah, when did that shit start fucking happening? August was a nice looking woman, but his reaction to her was _way_ deeper than for two people who had only watched one hockey game. Logan could understand if it was the playoffs, but come on.

He ignored her and continued to pace, balling his hands into fists to keep from popping his claws. All he’d meant to do was pick up a book for the Cajun and now he was involved in the same ancient, magical woo-woo shit he’d promised himself to avoid. If _anyone_ should be the woman’s consort, it should be Gumbo.

Speaking of, maybe the slick bastard had some way to weasel out of this thing. Remy LeBeau was not only a master thief but he was ace at detaching himself from sticky situations involving women. As far as Logan was concerned, this situation was the stickiest and he could use a little—or _a lot_ —of the Cajun’s famed luck right about now.

Logan stalked into the kitchen and, when it was clear August wasn’t following him, pulled out his cell. A few pushed buttons later and Gambit was on the other end of the line.

“ _Bonjour_ , Logan,” Remy greeted pleasantly. “Can’t help but notice you’re not at home, eh? Things going well with August?”

Normally, Logan would have played off the Cajun’s obvious insinuations, but he truly was not in the mood at the moment. “Yeah,” he snapped, “so well that I just fuckin’ married her.”

The silence in the other end of the line was deafening. “You’re playin’ me, right?” The other man was incredulous. “You pullin’ ol’ Remy’s leg?”

“What the hell did you get me into, Gumbo?” Logan growled. “I was only supposed to pick up a book for you, not become a goddamn consort.”

“I only thought you’d get along,” Remy said defensively. “Maybe get naked, release some o’ dat tension you been carryin’ around, _homme_. I mean, you like hockey, she like hockey—“

“Yeah, the _Oilers_ ,” Logan hissed. “Who likes the _Oilers_? Nobody, that’s who! They had their heyday in the ‘80s with Gretzky, Kurri, Messier, and Coffey—hell, even the goalie Fuhr—but, shit, it’s time to move on—“

“Logan,” Remy’s voice cut through his tirade, “I’m sure dis would be a very interestin’ conversation at literally any other time, but I need you to stay focused here; tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“Is that Remy on the phone?” August asked from the kitchen entrance.

Logan whirled to face her and managed to keep his face neutral by giving her a terse nod. She had her arms wrapped around herself, the pullover she’d donned sweeping her knees. She looked tired; resigned.

“Tell him to come,” she said, turning to go. The she hesitated and faced him. “By the way, how many Stanley Cups do the Flames have?

“One.”

“How many do the Oilers have?”

“Five,” he muttered.

August cupped her hand around her ear. “I’m sorry; I didn’t hear you. How many Stanley Cups do the Oilers have, Logan?”

“Five.” Logan repeated, louder this time.

She turned away, tossing the next few sentences over her shoulder. “That’s right, cowboy: FIVE. They lead all other NHL teams in terms of winning playoff percentage, so suck it.”

Logan sighed in defeat as soon as she was gone.

“Damn _mec_ , dat was stone cold,” Remy said with awe. Then his voice was suddenly suspicious. “You sure you married her accidently?”

 

~*~*~

 

Logan came from the kitchen, his cell clenched in his hand.

August opened her mouth to speak, to soothe him somewhat, but the look he gave her murdered the words in her throat. He was upset and rightfully so.

He’d agreed to help her without fully knowing what the terms were and now he was trapped in something he didn’t completely understand. He paced for a few minutes before sitting heavily in one of the armchairs.

August could feel what Logan was going through—he was confused—not only by what had happened but also by the sudden rush of feelings he was having for her. She had to give him credit; he wasn’t trying to fight them, just understand them. She wanted to bring him some form of relief, make him feel like he hadn’t been tricked into something.

“The hand fasting ceremony Monday performed isn’t permanent,” August said suddenly. Logan’s dark blue eyes focused on her face. She felt herself flush, as if she were a giddy schoolgirl with an asinine crush. It was just the spell, she reminded herself. “I just—wanted you to know that,” she finished lamely.

Logan didn’t respond, his eyes still on her. It felt like he was studying her; she tried to keep it together under his scrutiny but could feel herself starting to shake.

“Why?” Logan asked abruptly. “Why me? Why not Merlin?”

“Because I would’ve died without a consort and it couldn’t be Merlin because he’s not of Earth. It needed to be someone tied to this plane, and to be honest, you were there,” she said. “I’m truly sorry this happened, Logan, but I promise it’s only temporary.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. “What can I do for you that Monday can’t?”

She rubbed her hands over her knees, a nervous gesture. “Monday and I are from two different realms, ones that hated each other. We were banned from either world because of our union, but Monday’s god was kind enough to give him something he could draw power from, and that’s your moon.

“As long as people worshipped the moon, he could draw power, and I drew power from Monday. Now that the human race is turning away from old traditions and gods, his power is fading and he needs to spend more time away from me. Without access to magic—“

“You’ll die,” Logan said.

“Yes.”

They were silent for a few minutes, Logan contemplating what he’d just heard.

“I’m not magical,” he said. “I don’t have power like Monday does.”

August rubbed her knees again but before she could speak, Monday trotted down the stairs to bump against her legs affectionately.

“That is not true,” the cat said. “Logan, you have an animalistic side and that side is connected to nature and Earth, just as I am to the moon. You may not be able to use that magic per se, but it can be accessed by someone like August,”

“That’s why having Addanc as a consort would work? Because as a lake monster, he’s also connected?”

Monday nodded. “Yes, he’s linked with the element of Water as you are with Earth,” he said. “ I do promise that this is only until we have dealt with Addanc, then August and I shall release you from the hand fasting and any obligation you have to us. However, I will be upfront and say the addition of an enchantment spell complicates things. Merlin has taken the item away to study it. We will find a solution.”

Logan looked from August to Monday and then back again. His hands slowly unclenched and he leaned forward with a sigh, shoving his hands through his hair. “Okay,” he said. “This is starting to make sense. I just … need a few days to process what’s going on.”

“That’s fair,” August said, reaching down to stroke Monday but felt Logan’s eyes on her. She snatched her hand back and crossed her arms, leaning away from Monday.

Touching her husband, even in cat form, in front of her consort seemed … _wrong_ , like she was blatantly flirting with another man. She knew she was being silly; Monday had given them his blessing, but it didn’t feel right.

“All of the emotions and urges you both are feeling will lessen after the first time you partake in coitus,” the cat said, a matter-of-factly, rubbing a paw over his ear.

“Monday!” August could feel the heat rush to her face, her cheeks burning from embarrassment.

“What?” he asked, curling a tail around her calf. “Sexual congress is important between consorts. It helps strengthen the bond.”

“You and August are husband and wife,” Logan said, his voice strangely even.

Monday licked his paw. “This is true, but I will tell you the same thing I told her: I would rather share her with another man that I trust than have her die. Would you not make the same choice for someone you love?”

Logan rubbed his hands over his thighs with a deep exhale. August could see his mind turn inward, his face serious. He was obviously thinking about people he cared for.

“Yes.”

“I would do this and much more to keep August alive and away from Addanc,” Monday said seriously. “I would kill her myself if it meant keeping her out of the grips of that lecherous and hateful fish.”

“Monday,” she said softly, placing a hand on his back. He was vibrating with rage, his whiskers twitching like mad.

“I wish I could explain the honour you do me by being consort to my dear one, Logan,” the cat said. “Knowing she is safe from him gives me hope,”

“Is that why everything was done so quickly?” Logan asked.

Monday sat, curling his tail around his feet. “When August was unconscious, it made her vulnerable to certain kinds of attacks that I could not stop and I did not want Addanc to take advantage of that. Besides, you two were bound together, so that certainly helped speed things along.”

The image of the purple party blower popped into his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Explain that.”

“First of all, I want to make it abundantly clear that I’m not trying to solicit any sort romantic feelings from you,” August said, her tone genuine. “Addanc is … jealous is not quite the right word.”

“Jealous is _exactly_ the right word,” Monday said acidly, leaping onto the couch. “Jealous and possessive and obsessive.”

She placed a calming hand on the cat and he pressed himself tightly against her, but he was still vibrating with outrage, his whiskers twitching. He was kneading the fabric of the couch quite intensely, his claws puncturing the fabric audibly.

“What we believe is that he had Mervin spell the blower with the intention of slipping it to him during their next visit,” August said. “Addanc would need to have it on his person the next time we touched in order for the enchantment to work. He must’ve known something was wrong when he handed me Louis’s money,”

“I guess that explains the jolt I felt when August touched my arm; that was the spell taking effect?” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Exactly,” August said. “Because you somehow ended up with the party favour, it was transferred to you and the first person to touch you.”

“Penelope touched me when I was at the store,” Logan said. “Why didn’t it work with her?”

Monday’s tail twitched and Logan would swear an amused smile touched the cat’s lips. “Since Penelope is a daemon, this kind of enchantment would have no effect,” he said. “Though I am sure she tried.”

“She was really over me,” he said, “pushing against me when she was in cat form.”

“Yeah,” August smiled. “She was trying,”

“That means she knew I had a spelled item. Why didn’t she say anything?” Logan asked.

Monday and August exchanged glances. “I think that’s another conversation for another day,” she said as the doorbell rang. “That must be Remy.”

She went to the door, but something didn’t feel right; it felt oddly heavy on the other side, the weight practically pushing through, pressing on her. It _had_ to be Remy though; they weren’t expecting anyone else.

August opened the door cautiously—and couldn’t help the scream that wrenched from her throat.

The opposing figure of Loki Laufeyson and the smaller, less imposing Addanc waited for her on the other side. The god smiled at her, as if he had just discovered a precious child doing something adorable. The Welsh lake monster was staring hungrily at her, a sick lust burning in his coal dark eyes.

Frantically, she began etching wards onto the doorjamb, anything spell she could remember that kept out the evil and unwanted. Tears streamed unbidden down her face.

“You silly woman,” Loki chastised, with a patronising smile. “Your silly diagrams won’t keep me out. I know you have no magic left in that soft little body,”

Monday skidded to a stop behind August with a loud growl. “She may not,” his voice impossibly loud and booming, “but I do.”

“Monday,” August gasped, “No!”

Logan was ready to leap, but a wave of Loki’s hand rooted him to the spot, and they both could only watch as Monday transformed into his true self, his large, strong hands reaching out, gripping each side of the doorjamb, blocking August from their view. She continued to trace strange shapes, not hesitating for a second.

“Máni,” Loki exclaimed delightedly, clapping his hands as if he were greeting a long lost friend. “How wonderful to see you! And now that I have, you have broken the agreement you entered into with the All-Father. Guards should be here to arrest you—“ A beam of golden light appeared and two giant, muscular men dressed in complicated armour stepped out “—now.”

The guards grabbed Monday, who did not fight, and the three vanished in another blast of golden light. She felt her heart drop as soon as she no longer sensed his presence on Earth.

Once they were gone, Loki turned his attention to August, who was still feverishly etching, and touched the tip of a long, graceful finger to her chin, tilting her head up towards his.

It was only when their eyes met that her desperate actions stopped.

“As for you, little jötunn, we shall be seeing you at the tribunal, yes?” Loki said, his voice sickly saccharine. “That is, of course, if you’re allowed on Asgardian land. Oh wait, you’re not. How callous of me! Whatever shall you do?”

He dropped his finger quickly and slapped August across the face, her head jerking hard to the side. “You make me sick,” he hissed. “I cannot wait to see you die.”

Addanc looked as if he was the one who had been slapped. “No,” he protested. “That wasn’t the—“

“Quiet,” Loki demanded, not taking his gaze from August. “You will pay for what you’ve done, little jötunn.”

The god turned to go, his hand out to push Addanc along with him, when August’s hoarse voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You are no better than me,” she panted, wiping blood from her mouth. “We are both jötnar, Loki; never forget that.”

He whirled back to face her, the second strike knocking her to the ground. “You do not have the right to speak my name, filth!” Loki yelled, spittle flying from his lips. “We are _not_ the same! WE ARE NOT THE SAME!”

His face was twisted in fury, and for a second, August waited for Loki to strike her down, to end her life. With Monday gone, she would gladly go, but a brief spark lit in her: Logan. She reached out to him and grabbed tight.

The god leaned forward and spat on her face, the wet glob of phlegm acid on her skin. August didn’t wince or move to wipe it away even though it was burning her.

“You remember that, jötunn,” Loki voice was filled with promises of terror and horror. “We are not the same nor will we ever be.”

In a wave of Loki’s arm, he and Addanc were gone. August quickly wiped his spit from her, feeling the burn it had left behind. Logan, now released from the stone spell rushed to her, sliding his arms under her shoulders to help her up. Instead of getting to her feet, she buried her face in his chest and broke into heart-wrenching sobs, her hands clutching his shoulders.

Monday was well and truly gone and she couldn’t find him anywhere. All was hopeless now; all was broken beyond repair.

“What’s goin’ on?” Remy’s concerned voice broke through her cries.

Logan pulled her close and stroked her hair, letting her cry as he looked up to Remy. “You got a car?”

“ _Oui_ ,” replied the Cajun.

“Good,” he said, picking August up in his arms. “We’re going to Avengers Tower.”

“You gon’ pay for gas?”

“Cram it, Gumbo. You owe me.”

Remy sighed and pulled out his car keys. “You could at least pitch in a little,” he said. Logan growled at him and he threw his arms up. “All right, all right. Jesus, it’s like Remy’s made o’ money all of a sudden.”

“You _are_ made of money,” Logan said. “Need I bring up the Chicago heist—“

“Shut up an’ get in da car,” Remy snapped. “Y’know, for a man of few words, you talk too much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The handfasting vow is called 'The Hands of the Couple' and is a traditional handfasting prayer. The author is unknown. I've tweaked it a bit for my own purposes.
> 
> Loki wasn't supposed to be in the story because I don't know too much about him, but Addanc got desperate, so I guess I'll have to learn more!


End file.
